The Body #2: Lucio and Janie

Chapter 12 (Lucio): Just Ask

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA

Ginevra hadn't said no, but she also hadn't said yes when I'd asked her to give me a chance a week ago. Her steady stare after I'd poured out my feelings to her hadn't given me any indication of her thoughts. It'd been hard enough admitting to the shit I'd told her, and I'd had to figure out that new feeling inside of me after she hadn't responded in any way: embarrassment. Not sure exactly what I'd expected my wife to do when I opened up to her, but whatever it was definitely hadn't happened.

"Why would I give you a chance?" she'd asked, then she hadn't said another word.

I'd thought about her question, talked with Santo about it, and basically found myself obsessing over the question my wife had thrown at me. I wanted to know more about her, wanted to know her secrets. I called her a couple of times at her volunteer job, and she'd been surprised that I'd called her.

"Is something wrong?"

I felt like an asshole. No, I just wanted to hear your voice. 

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to see if you could have lunch with me today. Or tomorrow."

"Why, Lucio?"

"I'm trying to give you a reason to give me another chance, Janie. I thought we could start by getting to know each other."

"I'm really busy this week," she'd evaded.

Today, her guards had called to say she'd asked to detour to the cemetery. I knew her basic schedule and they called in any deviations. That put her really close to my offices, so I grabbed my jacket and took off for my car, my guards hurrying behind me. I'd pulled into the cemetery just seconds after her car had arrived.

I never visited cemeteries aside from funerals, not even to visit my own parents' graves. The dead were gone, and they wouldn't know if you visited them or not. My eyes were always focused on what was ahead of me, not behind. Cemeteries contained the past, a great deal of what was concentrated in one area.

But I'd come here today to see my little ghost. She stood in front of her father's grave, silent and still.

Wishing you were somehow here again.

Beloved Papa

I looked at the words carved into the headstone, right above his name, date of birth and date of death. Ginevra's mother's headstone was right next to it.

I remembered the day her father died, and I remembered my rage that the shooter had missed Dario. I hadn't thought about the incident in terms of Ginevra's father dying and my fiancée losing her beloved father so suddenly. Instead, I'd thought about how we'd almost gotten lucky that day. Would have gotten lucky had Ginevra's father not stepped in front of a bullet meant for Dario. We were, of course, tracking down whoever was responsible for the attempt on Dario's life, but I felt that I'd be going especially hard on whoever had taken the shot and working out my frustration that he'd missed on the shooter himself. I hadn't thought of what Ginevra had been going through. I'd viewed her father's death through the lens of my fury and disappointment that I could have taken over as Head without all of the plotting and planning and death that was ahead of me. The daughter he'd left behind, my fiancée...her feelings simply hadn't been on my radar. 

I'd attended his funeral, had even been a pallbearer. I'd stood beside my tiny fiancée, and I'd thought she was handling his death well. She hadn't cried, hadn't so much as flinched as we'd thrown bullets onto his casket as he was lowered into the ground. It was a Body tradition for men who died in service to the Body protecting another, a high honor, a gesture of ultimate respect. Ginevra had kissed her bullet before letting it roll down her palm and drop into the grave. But not once had she cried.